


Looking for Companions in the Forest

by cyanoxile (shikinami)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Can be interpreted as major character death, M/M, Mystery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-08
Updated: 2018-01-08
Packaged: 2019-03-02 11:28:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13317126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shikinami/pseuds/cyanoxile
Summary: Once upon a time, there was a boy who saved the world. He fled to a dark forest alone after being cursed. When he realized how lonely he had become, he started looking for a companion.





	1. The Visit

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to [@KaterineBlack](http://archiveofourown.org/users/KaterineBlack) for the beta!

There was no mistaking the author of the cryptic letter that landed on his windowsill. Even after all this time, Draco could still recognise the sorry chicken scratch that Potter considered writing. Not to mention the prickling sensation that was the remnants of Potter’s magic. What he didn’t understand is why it had been sent to him in the first place.

The parchment appeared to be a part of a faded, almost disintegrating map of Gloucestershire with only the northern part of what seemed to be a forest visible. On the other side was _HELP. FOREST OF DEAN_ in a greenish-brown scrawl. It looked as if Potter had used the bark of an old tree as a pen. Draco lifted the parchment up to his nose and frowned. It smelled of nature just as he thought, and if he was being honest, faintly of a pungent, unwashed human and bodily waste.

He dropped the letter to the floor and muttered a _Scourgify_ to his hands, then a _Wingardium Leviosa_ and _Res Continentiam_ to the offending letter.

Curious. Potter had been gone from the public eye for the past five years, and now he had somehow contacted Draco with nothing but a smelly, mysterious missive. There were times that Draco couldn’t help but muse about what happened to the Boy Wonder. A childhood of antagonism and being saved multiple times surely merits that sort of space in one’s mind. More importantly, he’d be lying if he didn’t acknowledge the closely-guarded carnal attraction he felt towards Potter.

Draco felt a burn that started in his stomach and ended in his groin, the sort of angry longing whenever he thought of Potter. Whatever game Potter wanted to play, Draco was intrigued enough to participate. If Potter really needed aid of any kind, then perhaps he could use the opportunity to come back to society a hero. Or at least more respected than he is now. If it got him to ogle Potter’s arse again, then that was just a bonus.

Draco swept his eyes around his flat. Bare yellowing walls, sparse furniture. In front of him was a small dingy window, the letter hovering just above the sill. He closed his eyes and inhaled slowly, then exhaled just as slowly.

With a curl of his lip, he went towards the door, the letter trailing right behind him. Beside it was an old rack with a lone coat hanging on it. He donned the coat, patting his pockets to make sure that his pack of cigarettes was safely lodged there.

Now he’s ready for the cold outside.

 

 

Weasley and Granger’s abode on the countryside was just as Draco had expected. White picket fence, pale blue paint for the walls, the door a deep, surprisingly tasteful burgundy. Draco noted that they hadn’t even bothered to hide their home behind a Fidelius, and wondered how the hell they hadn’t been mobbed by now, with Granger being a rising politician and Weasley a renowned businessman. Just thinking about that made Draco grind his teeth. But needs must and pride hadn’t taken him anywhere comfortable thus far.

Draco willed his feet to step forward, one after the other, until he found himself standing right in front of their door. He stared at it for quite some time, contemplating whether he should knock, or press the red button beside it. He remembered it from his eighth-year Muggle Studies as a bell to announce the arrival of someone.

He had the question answered when the door opened with a rumpled Granger looking at him, obviously not expecting any guests, guessing on the tattered Chudley Cannons shirt and joggers that she wore. Much less a Malfoy on her doorstep.

“Malfoy,” Granger started, “What brings you here?”

Draco gaped at Granger for a few good seconds before getting back to his senses. “Granger,” he croaked.

Granger simply raised a brow. Draco opened and closed his mouth, trying to find the words, but failing. “I… can I come in?”

Granger narrowed her eyes but said nothing, only stepping aside to let him in.

“‘Mione! Who’s the tosser lurking outside?” Weasley’s unmistakable voice echoed from further inside the house. Draco winced.

Granger closed the door. “You’d better come in here,” she shot back, then made her way to an archway to the left, leading Draco to the sitting room. “And bring some Assam for three, thanks love.” She looked at Draco and gestured for him to sit on a chair opposite the lounge where she sat. “I hope Assam’s alright.”

Draco forced a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes and sat down. “That would be lovely, thank you.”

Granger’s stare hadn’t softened one bit. The longer that she stayed silent, the more unnerved Draco was. He fidgeted in his seat.

Weasley entered just in time. “Here’s… Malfoy?” he barked out a laugh. “Well I definitely didn’t expect to have elevenses with Malfoy today.” He sat the tray on the table in front of them and slid in next to Granger.

“So?” Granger prodded, as she offered Draco one of the cups of tea. Draco really didn’t care for Assam but he needed something to do with his hands, so he reached for the cup, nodding in thanks.

“Well.” Draco heaved out a sigh, deciding there’s no point in prolonging things any longer. “It’s about Potter.”

Granger kept still, but Draco noticed that Weasley had straightened in his seat, the warm, candid demeanour gone so suddenly. “What about Harry?” Weasley said.

Draco swallowed and pulled his wand, Summoning the letter in his coat pocket and levitating it over to Granger and Weasley. It hovered upright in front of them, giving them a view of Potter’s handwriting first. Granger also pulled out her wand and had the note turned. “I think he sent this to me,” Draco replied, setting his wand in his lap and putting his hands over the warm mug of tea.

“How sure are you that this is from Harry?” Weasley said, voice shaking slightly as he stared at Draco, his neck and ears flushed.

For a split second, Draco thought that Weasley would be throttling him over the table. He instinctively slid back into the chair, but thankfully Weasley stayed in his seat. Draco’s eyes slid over to Granger, who only examined the letter from all possible angles.

“Are you telling me that you can’t recognize Potter’s handwriting?”

“Anybody can easily forge Harry’s handwriting, not like it’s hard.” Weasley sounded like he was making a joke but the air had become heavy; this was hardly the time to laugh at anything. “Why come to us with this?”

Draco looked down on his tea and decided a gulp of something warm would probably make this conversation easier. “I have no idea why anybody would send me anything like this,” he replied after taking a hefty swallow of the bitter tea. “Besides, the letter feels like it was touched by Potter’s magic. I’m pretty sure he sent this.” Granger glanced at him then. “I thought I’d go to the two of you first as you’d always been attached hip, as nobody else knows where Potter is. If this is a prank, it’s not a very funny one, is it? I demand an explanation for this.” He managed to make his tone even, channeling every ounce of the demanding brat he had been once. Besides, why shouldn’t he? He was the one being inconvenienced by these inane shenanigans after all. Draco was starting to regret his decision by the minute.

“What do you mean touched by Harry’s magic?” Granger said quietly. Weasley just looked at her and frowned.

Draco pursed his lips and gestured to his chest. “ _Sectumsempra_.” When the two of them just looked at him in askance, he sighed. “Potter cursed me once and I felt his magic, that’s why I know. Did he never tell you about it?”

Granger’s eyes widened. “I’m sorry to hear that, Malfoy.”

Weasley let out a loud exhale. “Yeah. Sorry about that. It’s probably not from Harry though. Just let it go and—“ Draco Summoned the letter back to his pocket and Weasley’s frowned deepened all the more. “Look, Malfoy. Harry’s somewhere far away and he wouldn’t really want to be disturbed, so I suggest you forget about receiving that letter and go home.”

Draco noticed that Granger’s eyes had become teary and her lower lip wobbling slightly. He was pretty sure Weasley could see her in his peripheral, and was just studiously ignoring his wife. Odd. “What’s going on here?”

“Ron,” Granger started. “No, ‘Mione,” Weasley said, jaw tightening. “You need to leave, Malfoy. And get rid of that letter. Burn it for all I care. Maybe Harry really is just fucking around but I tell you nothing good will come out if you think too much about it.”

“But—”

“Leave, Malfoy,” Weasley repeated, as he got up. “You know where the door is.”

Draco watched him warily then looked at Granger, who wiped away at her face. “Fine. But tell Potter that whatever this is, it’s highly inappropriate.”

Weasley looked at him but said nothing, then turned to leave the room. Granger stood up and led Draco back to the hallway. She opened the door and Draco stepped out. “Malfoy,” she mumbled, just as he stepped out of the door.

Draco looked back to find her Summoning something.

“Here,” Granger said, stepping closer to him and pressing a coin to his palm. “This is a Protean sickle. If there’s any help you need, just charm a message to the sickle and I’ll receive it. I also fixed some protective magic into it.” She sighed. “I know that all this mystery is going to make you even more curious. To be honest…” she trailed off, pushing her bushy hair away from her face. “Just take it, in case you decide to go investigate.”

Draco pocketed the sickle. “I thought you wanted me to forget about the whole thing?” He narrowed his eyes. “What happened to Potter, really?”

Granger bit her lip. “I didn’t say that. But I’m just hoping…” she shook her head. “I think Harry contacted you because he thinks you can help him. We’ve tried...” she sighed. “Maybe you can help him, like he said.”

“If this harms me in any way, Granger,” Draco warned, and Granger’s face paled.

“Hermione! Stop giving the ferret any ideas!” Weasley bellowed, and Granger winced, glancing behind her.

“It’s your choice. I’m not telling you to go. Like Ron said, you can forget the whole thing,” she said, looking back at Draco before stepping back into the house. “But if you can’t, just use the sickle. Or send a Patronus. Just be careful, Malfoy.”

With a nod, Granger closed the door, leaving Draco staring at the burgundy door again. Draco fished the sickle and raised it up to look. It looked like an ordinary sickle, but he could feel the layers of charms in it. He pondered just spending it on more cigarettes, but thought better of it.

Draco walked the pathway leading out of Weasley and Granger’s property, taking out a fag and lighting it as he settled his hips against the fence. He took a drag, watching the curls of smoke dissipate into the cold air. The sky in that area reminded him of Wiltshire—unhindered by anything but trees. It wasn’t always that he saw an open sky like this. Outside the window of his flat was just more towering, moulding buildings. Better enjoy it while he was here.

It didn’t take long until he finished his smoke. Draco dropped the butt to the ground and stubbed it with his heel. He Summoned the letter out, looking closely at it before Banishing it back to his pocket.

With a deep breath, he Disapparated.

 

 

Draco landed on something sticky and mud-like. He groaned. At least he was wearing some sturdy high cut boots and wouldn’t have to worry about whatever it was getting inside his shoes. Once he had himself upright and out of the mud, he looked at his surroundings. It looked like a forest, but mercifully nothing like the Forbidden Forest.

The sun shone through the trees; it was still early in the afternoon. Whatever this was, he wasn’t going to spend more than two hours looking around. Familiar, alluring scents filled his nose suddenly. They were the smell of broom polish, treacle tart, and the sea. He pulled out his wand and kept one hand inside his pocket, groping on the sickle. Still he walked towards where the scent was coming from.

Birds were chirping all around. The air was cold but the sunlight kept Draco somewhat warm through his thin jumper. On top of the scent he followed was the smell of wet earth. Draco could almost pretend that he was just on a leisurely stroll in an inviting forest if not for the fact that he was just going along with Potter’s goose chase.

Just a little bit further he noticed a figure, in what looked like a hooded cloak in garish Gryffindor colours. The scent was also strongest in that direction. Belatedly Draco realized that he was following the scent of Amortentia, and he stopped.

As he did, the hooded figure turned back, revealing unkempt black hair from under the hood and glasses that are too big for the face. Potter stared back at him, and his whole face lit up. Bewildered by this, Draco stepped back.

“Draco!” Potter greeted, almost running towards him. Strangely, it sounded as if his voice was coming from all directions; forests don’t tend to echo like that.

“Potter,” Draco addressed, taking in a huge breath. The Amortentia smell was stronger now that Potter was directly in front of him. It drowned out the odour of the forest, or the smell of anything else. Draco felt his muscles relax.

Potter was watching him enthusiastically, sporting a toothy grin, looking like a child inside Honeydukes. Draco watched him with almost equal intensity. Potter looked like he hadn’t washed or shaved for quite some time; his beard was thick, and greasy, wavy hair peeked out of the hood over his shoulders. Too bad that his cloak was totally covering his body.

“Oh, none of that Potter business,” Potter chuckled, the sound earnest, but seemed not to come from his mouth. “How have you been?”

“I’m fine…?” Draco’s brows knitted, mouth pulled down. “What the hell, Potter? You send me a creepy note out of the blue just to ask how I’ve been?”

“Hey, hey, calm down, I’m sorry,” Potter replied, properly contrite, as he raised his hand as if to pat Draco on the shoulder. He hesitated for only a second and proceeded to do just that. Draco wanted to purse his lips all the more, but Potter’s touch had a more calming effect on him. He ended up pouting just a bit instead. “Oh, that’s cute,” Potter chuckled.

“Potter…”

“Harry.”

“Right. _Harry_.” Draco rolled his eyes. “What?”

Potter smiled. “Well, I suppose I need help…”

Draco looked at him and waited.

“I…” Potter turned to the side, looking sheepish as he scratched the back of his neck. “I’ve been feeling a bit lonely, you see… Ron and ‘Mione never visit…”

“What’s that have to do with me?” Draco said, annoyed. He was about to cross his arms but found that his limbs weren’t exactly being cooperative, stubbornly staying on his sides. Moreover, Potter’s voice continued to echo across the forest instead of sounding like it was coming out of his mouth. The chirping birds were nowhere to be heard. His skin prickled; he could feel the hairs at the back of his forearm raise. But still he couldn’t move properly, like his whole body was under the lulling influence of an Imperius. “Potter, what is this?” his voice broke, feeling cold sweat dot his forehead.

Potter ignored him and just moved closer. “You know, I think I’ve always fancied you…” He laid his hands over Draco’s shoulders, massaging them slightly. “Well, not until eighth year anyway. You were always a huge git and you made my childhood miserable.” Potter nodded, then rested his head over Draco’s left shoulder. The hood fell off, revealing a full head of messy hair. Still, it didn’t smell as disgusting as it looked. “Then you grew up and became very fit. Made me cross for a while, realizing I was attracted to you.”

Draco swallowed, thankful he still had control over his mouth and throat. He felt cold all over. The admission hadn’t stilled the growing nervous pounding in his chest, which the sweet scent of Amortentia filling his nose battled. Or at least that what he thought. “I’m flattered, and sorry, really _Harry_ , but I hardly think this is the way to ask me out.”

“Oh, I’m not asking you out. I’m actually asking you to stay!” Potter sounded gleeful.

Draco’s hands felt clammy, and he felt his wand slip from his fingers down to the leafy ground. He tried to step back and bend down, but the most he could do was to lean back a bit to stare at Potter. “What do you mean stay? Potter, why on Earth can’t I move?” His voice had risen to a higher pitch.

Potter tilted his head, as if taken aback. “Well Ron and ‘Mione stopped visiting already and since I figured you liked me too—”

“I’ll bring Granger and Weasley if you want!” Draco shrieked, feeling tears run down his cheeks. “Just please let me go—”

“ _NO_ ,” Potter roared, as he wrapped his hands around Draco’s arms. “Don’t leave me.”

Draco’s breath hitched as Potter hugged him tighter. He felt colder, like he was being soaked. When he looked down, he noticed that red was seeping into his coat where Potter’s cloak touched. This close, it was no mistaking that it was blood. Draco’s eyes widened as he finally realized that Potter’s cloak was soaked in blood. He wanted to scream, but all he could do was open his mouth; no sound was coming out.

Potter looked at him then and leaned into his mouth, deciding to occupy it with his own. Draco tasted rancid breath as Potter breathed into him, distinctly feeling saliva when Potter pressed and lapped his tongue against his. His saliva was thicker than any human’s and Draco thinks— _knows_ —that right now, Potter is anything but.

Draco made a choked sound, and his eyes continued to pour unbridled tears. Potter nosed his cheek then licked there.

“You taste salty, but good…” Potter said, as if it was said in a whisper, but his voice was echoing again from everywhere. He peppered Draco’s cheek and neck with kisses, making little pleased noises. Leaning back, he looked at Draco, his green eyes shining brightly. With a smile, he leaned back in, as if angling for another kiss.

Draco watched Potter’s mouth open a little, then more—wider and wider, until all that he could see was black.

 

 

It was very kind of Draco to visit, really, even better that he decided to stay. Harry just felt a bit bad because Draco probably couldn’t have properly notified his mother, and she would be missing him for a long time.

He raised a hand to his cheek, finding it wet. He didn’t feel the heaving sob that originated from his chest whenever he cried, so the tears probably weren’t his. Then again, he didn’t feel much of anything nowadays. The tears continued to drip down his chin though, and he wiped at his eyes.

Harry moved to go back, but then heard a snap. Looking down, he found a hawthorn wand and something shiny. He bent down to take a closer look, hissing as he did so. A charmed sickle, like the ones Hermione made in school. Hastily he threw the sickle far, far away and cradled his injured fingers, feeling the prickle of bad magic lingering in his skin.

Apart from Draco’s hair, Harry never really cared for shiny things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Res Continentiam_ is a made-up spell for containing objects.


	2. The Boy in the Red Cloak

Once upon a time, there was a boy who saved the world.

It wasn’t something that he wanted to do, really, but people were counting on him and he couldn’t let them down. He was very content in being left alone to just _be_.

But the lightning scar on his forehead meant that he was expected to do great things, and great things he did. It didn’t mean that he was happy doing them.

Even after dying— _and_ being Master of Death—to save the world, he thought it would be good to protect people some more. Well, people thought it would be good if he protected people some more. But he didn’t really know the difference between the two.

So the boy became an Auror, just like how people wanted. Strangely enough, it didn’t make him happy. In fact, it made him deeply unhappy.

One day in one of his missions as an Auror, he was bitten by a dark, malevolent wolf who used to be the follower of the person (person?) who killed him that one time. The wolf was so malevolent that he also cursed the boy just as he was dying. He cursed the boy with complicated magics that made the boy not feel any happiness for the rest of his life.

The curse and the bite were so bad that the boy had to flee to a dark forest, with only his glasses, cloak, and wand on him. He knew that the curse was so bad that he had to isolate himself so he wouldn’t be able to hurt any person who tried to get close to him.

The boy’s friends tried their best to get the curse lifted. They brought him potions and food so that he would be comfortable, but the boy couldn’t find comfort in them. Every full moon the boy howled and scratched as his body transformed, and every morning after the full moon he could feel the complicated, malevolent magics take over his body and mind.

The boy’s smartest friend cried a lot. The boy’s bravest friend looked at him with a stiff upper lip. They knew that there was no happy ending for the boy.

The boy knew that too. But even if he couldn’t have a happy ending, he would at least have a safe ending. So, he took his wand, the most powerful wand in the world, and put up the strongest wards he could muster. He made it so nobody could find him, no matter how hard they tried.

All these he did just before his wand broke, before his mind and soul broke.

The peace was kept for exactly five years, two months, twenty-three days, and fourteen hours.

Until then, the boy didn’t realize how bad loneliness can be. So he asked for help, from the only person he thought wouldn’t be able to resist him—the boy with the shiniest hair. Indeed, the boy with the shiniest hair couldn’t resist.

Perhaps there was a happy ending to his story after all.

**Author's Note:**

> w t fffffff
> 
> This piece came to me in a dream last year, I don't know how this happened but y'know sometimes you just gotta roll with it.
> 
> Wash all the weirdness off with some fluff here: [On Taking Breaks](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13316691) :)


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